


without hesitation

by krystallisert



Series: Elemental AU [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Elemental AU, F/M, Fluff, Lowercase, No Conflict, No Plot/Plotless, flower symbolism, vague as all hell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-28
Updated: 2017-05-28
Packaged: 2018-11-05 17:07:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11017794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/krystallisert/pseuds/krystallisert
Summary: you’re unlike any earth elemental he has ever met; an impressive feat when his own best friend started growing daisies and lavenders on his shoulders when they were still but children. hanamaki has seen, has been around, earth elementals all his life, but he’s never seen someone so wholeheartedly in love with earth as you before.





	without hesitation

**Author's Note:**

> This literally came from me listening to a podcast about the Bachelor, and a contestant on that show said something like “Ashley loves without hesitation” and I was like yes. That's good. I'll write a fanfiction based on that one line from a reality show that I haven't even watched. In the context of the show I don’t even think it was a compliment. I think that pretty much tells you what you need to know about the quality of this fic.
> 
> It also came from a tip I got about writing for characters I haven’t written for before, and starting a re-read of The Raven Cycle. The serial killer AU has kinda grabbed my all attention, but reading TRC really just makes me want to write in flow-ey, vague and metaphoric language, so there you go. This is me experimenting with the elemental thing more than anything else, so don't worry too much about it. It's also horribly, pointlessly fluffy, so naturally i hate it and haven't proofread it. there's probably at least a few typos.

hanamaki wonders, sometimes, if he was born with the wrong element coursing through his veins. the gentle breeze beneath his skin makes him feel restless, ticklish; like he wasn’t meant for the winds that urges him to move, run, fly. he prefers quietly perching at the top of the peach tree in the school’s big garden, observing the busy back and forth of students rather than taking part in the activities himself. he feels at ease on top of the world, at an arm’s length away from the action, but the wind in his bones always seem to whisper to him, dissatisfied with his inactivity.   
  
he wonders if you feel the same; if the roots at the soles of your feet try to ground you. you never seem to be able to stand still for long, always running barefooted and smiling through fields of flowers and cemented roads alike. he wonders if your feet blister and your element echoes protests in your ear like air does his.   
  
if it does, you never once complain.   
  
he finds you at the foot of his favorite tree, fingers gently handling the stems of vibrant, red carnations. so caught up in carefully braiding the flowers into a flower crown that you don’t even notice him coming up, though you must have known that he would (but then, hanamaki has always been light on his feet), you jump when he clears his throat. his heart leaps in his chest when you look up at him; there’s a special sort of fresh smell that always follows you, and it’s almost as if the earth can’t help flourishing upon contact. with the flowers blooming around your bare feet and the slight curve of your lips, you look otherworldly; ethereal. ‘there you are,’ you say, as if you’ve been waiting for him, and you put the finished flower crown on top of his head. the wind picks up around the two of you, and hanamaki can only grin.  
  
**_red carnations_** : while all carnations symbolize love and affection, the color of the flower also carries meaning. consider these meanings before presenting carnations to someone you love. _red carnations_ denote deep love and admiration.  
  
you’re unlike any earth elemental he has ever met; an impressive feat when his own best friend started growing daisies and lavenders on his shoulders when they were still but children. hanamaki has seen, has been around, earth elementals all his life; the stoic ushijima, the stubborn iwaizumi and his best friend matsukawa, but he’s never seen someone so wholeheartedly in love with earth as you before. you leave a trail of colorful flowers in your wake, forget-me-nots growing from cracks in the pavement and it’s so ridiculously beautiful that hanamaki can’t keep up with the loud _bu-dumps_ of his heart, can’t control the flutter of air that whisks through his strawberry blonde locks, can’t even use his element to catch himself as he falls, falls, falls.  
  
**_forget me nots_** : though easy to overlook, this small, blue flower is rich in both history and meaning. when given as a gift, this flower can mean true and undying love, a connection that lasts through time, fidelity and loyalty in a relationship, reminders of your favorite memories with another person and/or growing affection between two people.  
  
‘you’ve got something in your hair,’ you tell him, reaching an elegant hand towards him. he feels your fingertips gently brushing against the back of his ear, the spot heats up and he grabs onto the grass beneath his hands just to anchor himself, afraid a light breeze might blow him away out of sheer lightness of his heart. matsukawa sits beside you twirling ivies around his finger and giving hanamaki a very knowing look. when you pull your hand back, a soft, pale pink flower rests in your hand, and the smile that grazes your features threatens to make him keel over. ‘found it,’ you murmur pleasantly, spinning the flower between your fingers and looking at him expectantly. he says something, at least he thinks he does; words forming with incoherent puffs of air exiting his mouth, and he thinks it must be funny, because you laugh. ‘flowery’ might be a bit on the nose of a description, but it’s the only one he has for the delightful sounds that tumble out of your delightful mouth. his own mouth quirks in response, and matsukawa rolls his eyes as you tuck the flower behind hanamaki’s left ear.  
  
he ends up keeping the flower, neatly pressing it between the pages of the floriography book you gave him for his birthday years ago. he finds out what it is and what it means and he tries not to think too hard on it. it almost works.  
  
**_primrose_** : an edible flower that tastes good, used both for ornamental purposes and for example for brewing tea. when given to a loved one it has the sentiment of not being able to live without them, making them a great gift to the one you really love.  
  
okay. it _doesn’t_ work. hanamaki decides to be proactive. though he must admit, he feels a bit foolish; twirling a bundle of mistletoe between his fingers as the birds chirp above him from his lazy position on the lowest branch on the peach tree and the sun threatens to blind him. it had been embarrassing enough to beg iwaizumi to procure the plant for him without asking too many questions (asking matsukawa was out of the question, and iwaizumi had relented easily enough with the promises of owed favors), but hanamaki is starting to worry that you’re not showing up. it’s not as if you’re expected to, you just always sort of _do_. it’s a trait you share with a lot of your fellow earth elementals; the sort of quiet reliability that draws people to you, the strange kind of sixth sense matsukawa has where he always knows when to pull and when to push. even ushijima, with his scary frowns and clumsy words, has a calming effect on people. that’s just how it goes, he supposes.  
  
hanamaki isn’t prone to embarrassment, he is light and airy and free, after all, but the feeling in his chest is heavy as lead as he waits, waits, waits. you do eventually show up, of course, followed by a steady trail of pretty flowers and you immediately spot both hanamaki and his bundle of mistletoe.   
‘what’s this?’ you ask, pointing at the plant, a subtle blush spreading across your face and neck. the sight is welcome, gives hanamaki the ounce of courage he needs to grin cockily, move a bit closer. he always feels like you have the upper hand; always making him sway and flutter with your sudden gestures and heavy handed flower symbolism. he jumps down from the branch with all the grace of an air elemental, twirls the mistletoe between his fingers again out of pure nervousness.  
‘it’s a mistletoe,’ he responds, dangling the plant over both of your heads.   
‘i can tell,’ you tell him seriously, index finger on your chin as if in contemplation. ‘it’s not _quite_ the season for it yet, is it?’  
  
‘they say it’s bad luck to turn down a kiss under a mistletoe,’ he says, choosing to ignore your little jab at him and the fact that it’s the middle of the summer. of course you’d have extensive knowledge of the blooming periods of mistletoe; hanamaki would be surprised to find a flower you didn’t know everything about. you hum, playfulness glinting in your eyes.  
‘you’d better not turn it down, then,’ you finally tell him, and before he even gets the chance to dissect the sentence, your hand has curled itself around his tie, and you pull him closer, closer, until your lips cover his own. he’s caught somewhere between ecstatic that you’re actually kissing him and indignant that he didn’t get to instigate it himself, for a moment he completely forgets to actually respond to the kiss. it’s not until you pull on his tie again, bringing closer and urging him on, that he realizes that he’s still standing still like an idiot and wills his body to move. he’s delighted to find that your mouth tastes like strawberries, that your cheeks are warm and soft, and that when he opens his mouth into the kiss, you do the same.  
  
the bundle of mistletoe ends up pressed between a certain page of the floriography book. hanamaki really owes iwaizumi one.  
  
**_mistletoe_** : people generally believe that if you stand under a sprig of mistletoe, you can and should kiss the person you’re with. it is also believed that this plant can be used to ward off evil spirits. a meaning of this plant as a gift can be ‘kiss me’.  
  
you love without hesitation; unafraid and unabashed and confident in your pursuits. your element has never made more sense than the grounded, safe feeling that grows within him, deeply rooted and securely blooming in his chest. you urge him on, and the wind in his bones have never felt more welcome, more _right_. he wonders, sometimes, if your elements were switched at birth, if you would have felt freer, somehow, with the wind at your back instead of roses at your feet. if he would have felt steadier with vines wrapped tightly around his legs instead of gales and tornadoes inside his ribs. for your first anniversary, you fill his dorm room with mistletoes as a joke and refuses to help him get rid of them, he takes you flying for your birthday. he tells you he loves you with a bouquet of red roses he planted and grew himself. he doesn’t know when he stops feeling restless and uncomfortable with the endless breezes and currents hidden under his skin, and he can’t tell when you started standing still long enough for vines to crawl around your feet.  
  
he knows this, though; the feel of dirt beneath his finger nails, the sight of air blowing your hair all around your face. he feels like a mixture of both earth and air, grounded and free and stable and uncatchable. He knows this; the feel of your lips on his skin, your fingers in his hair.  
  
he knows this: you love without hesitation, as reliable and vibrant as your element and the flowers sprouting from your shoulders. but he loves like his element, too, the feeling filling his lungs, his room, his entire being. ‘it’s not a competition,’ you tell him, voice laced with laughter, but if it was he’s sure he’d win.   
  
earth; trees and plants and flowers, create the air, after all.   



End file.
